at
masterpiece of fortification designed by Vauban, is only a few
kilometers further on. We were beginning to think and calculate now in
kilometers. After a smart trot of about twenty minutes we came to a
coal yard on the left side of the road. We had passed a number of
batteries of heavy guns in position ready to open fire.

It was a beautiful evening. The moon was in its first quarter and
there was every prospect of a bright night. At the wood yard we were
told to stable our horses, and pretty soon we were struggling along
the muddy paving stones on our way to the Chateau. We had on one side
passed a small cemetery that had been set aside for the British and
Canadian soldiers shot in the trenches. I should have said that just
before I left, word had come in that Private Ford of "H" Company had
been shot in the thigh. This was our first casualty. A bullet struck a
British soldier of the Westminsters in the shoulder and cut into
Ford's thigh, failing to go through. Ford was a fine brave man. He and
another chum came over from the Edmonton Regiment just before we left
Lark Hill. He asked to be allowed to join the 48th, and as he was a
very likely chap, with a clean conduct sheet, I said, "come along." He
was steward of the Edmonton Club and joined at the outbreak of the
war. He was hit in the thigh, and the fact that he was wearing the
kilt greatly facilitated the bleeding of his wound being stopped. He
had two small arteries cut, but the first aid dressing which he
carried was soon tied over the wound and the hemorrhage ceased.

It was still light when we got to the Chateau. Colonel Levison-Gower
welcomed us into what was originally the kitchen, where a beautiful
range decorated with tiles made the room look very cheerful. Several
of his officers were there having tea, and I was offered a cup which I
accepted. We sat around waiting for darkness. It was going to be a
moonlight night, just the night for sharpshooters, but we had some
good sharpshooters of our own out in front of where we were going,
and we felt that not even a hare could get through the lines. When it
became dark Colonel Levison-Gower said "get ready," and began putting
on his togs. He wore an old Burberry coat with the skirts cut off,
heavy trench boots, a slouch British cap and armed himself with a long
pole, in other words a stable broom handle. He gave me one and said,
"This will help you to find a footing in the trenches." We started out
the front